


The One about Dean’s Lips

by hunenka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunenka/pseuds/hunenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well… Dean has those suggestive lips. There must’ve been dozens of times in his life when someone made a lascivious comment on that mouth, and this is one of those times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One about Dean’s Lips

They slip out of the bar, not quite drunk but pleasantly buzzed, the world softer around the edges, the constant worries seemingly insignificant because they’re alive and they solved a case today and they just had a really good dinner and the night is still young – and most importantly, they have each other.

Next to Sam, Dean stumbles and Sam wraps one long arm around his brother’s shoulders, drawing him closer until they’re touching shoulder to hip as they walk through the dimly lit back alley.

Dean stumbles again, nearly tripping them both over and as Sam struggles to keep them upright they somehow end up swerving towards the brick wall of one of the houses that flank the alley. Suddenly surprisingly steady on his feet, Dean pushes at Sam until Sam’s back hits the wall, and then Dean’s right there, in Sam’s space. “Sorry, couldn’t wait,” he whispers against Sam’s mouth before slipping his hot tongue past Sam’s lips.

Dean tastes like beer and pepperoni sauce and Sam moans, pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth in return, wanting more. He sneaks one hand under Dean’s jacket and then, after several failed attempts, under the two additional layers of Dean’s shirts until his palm finally encounters warm, smooth skin.

Sam is so lost in the moment, in the comforting yet still electrifying familiarity of him and Dean together, that he only registers the footsteps when it’s too late, when a rough male voice comments, “Woah, easy, boys!” His eyes snap open and he ends the kiss abruptly, just as Dean pulls away slightly. Sam keeps his palm on the small of Dean’s back, the connection there steadying them both.

“Maybe you should slow things down a bit.” The man who caught them is standing several steps away, swaying on his feet, clearly more drunk than they are. He doesn’t seem to be spoiling for a fight, though; in fact, he’s grinning sleazily as he watches them openly. “Can’t really say I blame you,” he says as he meets Sam’s eyes and winks conspiratorially, like he and Sam share a secret. “If I scored a hot piece of ass like you did, son, I’d be pretty impatient.”

Not expecting to hear something like that, Sam isn’t sure what to say – although his fists start itching, screaming at him that they sure might have an idea or two. Dean is also silent, still as a statue where he stands next to Sam.

They guy takes their silence as encouragement. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he staggers closer to them, peering at Dean curiously. “Man, that’s a pretty face. Lips like his were made for sucking cock, right? I bet he’s great at it, too.”

Sam can feel Dean tensing under his palm, coiled up, ready to strike. Sam looks around the alley quickly and calms down a bit when he sees no one else is there. At least they shouldn’t have a problem with the cops once Dean is done with this douchebag.

But to Sam’s surprise, instead of attacking, Dean relaxes again, and actually laughs. “Wow, seriously?” He asks the guy, tone deceptively calm, conversational, like he’s talking to a friend. “It really used to piss me off, all the dicks like you thinking that telling me about my cocksucking mouth is a compliment that’ll make me all happy and accessible.” He’s still smiling, but his eyes are glinting ominously.

“Uh–“ The guy’s brain finally catches up as he realizes his mistake and starts backing away, raising his hands in front of him as if that could possibly protect him.

Dean follows the man, keeping the distance between them very short. “I used to respond to this kind of crap with a punch or two.” His smile goes wider, showing teeth. It’s like a cat grinning at a mouse right before it goes for the kill. “But you know what? Now I actually feel sorry for guys like you. You’re never gonna get lucky with pick-up lines like this.” He’s standing right in the guy’s face now, towering over him. “So I’ll just leave you here to think about it. If that’s not beyond your capacity, of course.”

When Dean starts walking away, the guy lets out a shaky breath, scared eyes wide, face pale. Sam gives him a hostile look before he turns to follow Dean. He still thinks punching the guy sounds like a good plan, though. He’s not as thick-skinned as Dean is when it comes to bullshit like this, probably because he didn’t have to hear it his whole life.

Suddenly Dean turns back, calling after the poor guy who still just stands there, “And just FYI, you were right about one thing. I’m fucking _perfect_ at sucking cock. Better than in your wildest dreams. Right, Sam?”

Not really wanting to answer but understanding why Dean wants him to, Sam nods. “Damn right.”

“Damn right,” Dean repeats, grinning again, the tip of his tongue peeking through his teeth before sneaking out to lick his lips in a slow, suggestive way that the guy can’t help following with his eyes hungrily. “Let’s go, Sam.”

They go, staying close, shoulders bumping into each other, Dean’s amused chuckles echoing loudly in the narrow street.

They’re slowly heading towards their motel and Dean is still laughing under his breath.

Sam can’t stand it anymore.  “What’s so funny?”

Dean elbows him in the ribs. “The guy just gave me an idea.” He pauses dramatically, waiting for Sam to ask again.

Sighing, Sam resigns because he really wants to know. “What idea?”

There’s a mischievous tint to Dean’s smile and those laugh lines are prominent around his eyes, clearly visible as they pass under a streetlight. “How about I just stop hunting and become a porn star instead? It seems like lotsa people would appreciate that, including that bitch Abaddon.”

Sam ignores the pang of uneasiness at that name. “A porn star?”

“Yeah, come on!” Dean waggles his eyebrows at Sam and purses his lips. “Instant success!”

The truth is, Dean normally looks smoldering hot, but once he tries to do it on purpose, it gets rather ridiculous. Laughing, Sam wheezes out, “Sorry, Dean, I think you’re too old for that.”

That gets him a cuff on the head. “Old? _Old_?  As soon as we get back to our room, I’ll show you old!”

Oh, so it’s going to be one of _those_ nights. Sam’s lips twist into a satisfied grin. “I can’t wait.”

 

END


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